


Solace

by luxillume



Series: Solatium [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Comfort, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond-ish, Lazy Sex, Nightmare, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reylo visits Santorini, bad dream, established somethingship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxillume/pseuds/luxillume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Ren's turn to comfort Rey in his own way when she has a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

 

 

 

It is nearly six months before she hears from him again. Rey is waist-deep in wires underneath the Falcon's main console when the commlink beeps. He's really the last thing on her mind so she lets Chewie open the message. It's only when he hesitantly mumbles something about it being for her and leaves the cockpit that her heart skips a beat as she realizes what's going on. She crawls out from the mess of wires slowly, relieved Chewie isn't there to see what probably looks like guilt on her face. She is fairly certain the Wookie knows what is going on, but he's never said a word about it.

 

When she checks the message and sees just the set of coordinates, entered backwards, and a date, entered a week behind the actual scheduled meeting time, she knows who it's from. Her stomach does a little flip-flop. Every time, she tells herself that she should ignore it. She should delete the message immediately, forget she ever saw it. Their meetings are stupidly reckless, dangerous, and should stop. They never should have started.

She imagines trying to explain herself to General Organa, to Finn or Poe, and she's racked with a deep shame. She picks up a nearby rag and begins wiping grease and oil off her fingers. The shame is offset by the fact that they did not share secrets; indeed they did not speak of their opposing sides at all. They never told each other where they had come from, or what they had been doing in their absences. He ignored the fact that she was a Jedi, and she did her best to ignore that he was a Jedikiller. She tosses the rag on the console with a sigh and punches the button to save the message.

 

She doesn't take the Falcon, of course. It is too recognizable. When she receives the second set of coordinates a week later, she borrows a Chryya courier from one of Poe's friends under the guise of wanting to to test how fast it is and flies to Ennth. When she arrives at the city on the coordinates, she is surprised by his choice. It is clearly not any of the random back-world hidden places he could have chosen for convenience. No, this location had taken some thought. The island is covered in low-lying cubical houses built from stone and the structure of the island itself and whitewashed so it all gleamed in the sun. The only color was from the scattered azure pools here and there, the gray cobblestone streets, and the blue-domed roofs of the bigger structures. The water surrounding it is crystal-clear blue, with white sand beaches.

 

_You imagine an ocean. I see it. I see the island._

 

The closest landing pad is on the far side of the otherwise non-motorized island, and then it is a walk or pony-cart ride to the village. Once there, she locates the lodge and the room specified in the message. It's late afternoon, and she knows he won't be there until after dark. She takes advantage of the free time and walks the village, stopping to buy one of the light, flowing dresses made from colorful fabric that the locals favored. She buys a skin of honey wine and has a vendor package up some food that she takes back to the room for later. At dusk, she wanders out onto the stone balcony, a soft breeze coming in from the ocean, and watches the lights of the small fishing boats as they come in. The village is even prettier at night, the endless maze of pathways and staircases lit up so the whitewash structures glowed.

There is a private hotspring pool a few levels down from the room, and she eyes it before heading back inside to pour a glass of wine. He is not there yet-she hasn't felt that tug in the back of her mind that tells her when he is nearby, so she takes the glass and goes to enjoy the hotspring. She sinks into the water with a sigh, stretches her arms along the side of the pool and leans her head back to watch the stars come out. It's quiet here, without the constant whir of motorized vehicles, and on top of the water lapping at the shore below, she can hear music coming from deeper within the village, likely from one of the cantinas.

 

There are small, nearly silent service droids that come around to make sure there are towels stocked near the hotsprings and pools and to offer the drink and food menus of the lodge, and to make sure the room accommodations are sufficient, but otherwise the lodge seems blissfully vacant. Between the relaxing combination of the water and the wine, Rey finds herself exhausted when she gets back to the room. There are adjustable light pods already on when she gets back-they must be automatic, and she dims them so the room glows with a soft gold light. She tries to wait up for him, but the giant bed calls her name and she lays down, figuring she'll wake when he gets there.

A few hours later, this is how Kylo Ren finds her. He stands in the doorway and takes in the skin of wine and packages of what look like food on the table. He walks in and drains whats left of the wine in her glass, the thick honey texture clinging to his tongue after he swallows, eyes fixated on the bed and what waits there for him. 

_At night, desperate to sleep..._

He knows sleep has not come any easier for her since leaving Jakku, or even wherever she was with Luke. She no longer scans the sky for that ship, but she wanders the corridors of the Resistance bases and checks her friends doors to be sure they are safe. He drops the dark green robe he wears, pulls off the simple mask he wears on these trips and unclips his lightsaber from his belt. He shirks the dark green tunic and black pants, sets his boots aside and climbs in bed. He slides up behind her still sleeping form.

“You're late.” She mumbles, barely rousing.

Her hands slide over his where they wrap around her waist and pull her even tighter against him so they are touching from chest to back and shin to calf. He kisses her shoulder

“Not that late.”

She doesn't open her eyes and smiles as that sonorous voice rumbles against her. She pushes her body back harder against him, practically curling him around her. His energy is much like their last meeting- a low hum instead of the live wire spark. It's easy to relax into and she drifts back to sleep, pulling him down with her.

Kylo opens his eyes to the woods of Starkiller, and realizes they are sharing a dream. The snow is falling, but it is not cold, and it is utterly silent. He sees the figure of Rey pass by him as if he is invisible, and he tries to call to her, to wake her. They've shared this dream before and he knows how it ends. He cannot change it's events and it appears he cannot wake himself to stop it in the physical world so he watches ruefully as the memory plays out. She is watching as he and Han approach each other on the walkway below. She is already shaking her head, and because it is her dream he is experiencing, he understands her thoughts as if they were his own.

 _No, Han, run!_ She is looking around frantically for a way to get down to their level and realizes there isn't one. She won't get there in time, no matter what she does.

Then she hears _The face of my son_ and her world tilts. Shock rips through her. Shock and _dread_. He sees it then, the black smoke that materializes from the shadows behind him and begins to curl around his dream self.

They are no longer looking down at them, but on the walkway, and the crackling red blade does not explode through Han, but through her own chest as the thick, sickly black smoke swallows Kylo up.

In slow motion, she watches Han's body fall to a pinpoint and disappear below.

 

_It's too late._

 

When she looks back up, the smokey tendrils are moving up the glowing blade, swallowing it's light and coming toward her.

Rey wakes from the nightmare with her lungs seizing and heart pounding. It takes her a moment to realize there is not an actual lightsaber protruding from her chest and then she is able to suck in a ragged breath. There is movement behind her, and a weight that is not her own across her waist, and she panics. She strikes out, her sharp elbow connecting solidly with something with a muffled grunt before Kylo wraps his other arm around hers and tightens his grip.

 

“Rey-” he says. With that voice the monster was made corporeal and it was _with_ her.

Her entire body stiffened, strained against his hold on her, a scream making it's way out of her throat. Her arm wasn't free, but her hand was, and in her blind panic she called her saber to her, the smack of it hitting her palm loud in the room. Kylo grabbed her hand so she could not move to ignite the blade and rolled her underneath him, using his superior body weight and mass to subdue her as much as he could.

 

“Rey!” He repeated, louder and more sternly. It is the voice that drives the nightmare, and she bites her lip to stop the words from coming out as they have before, because she knows their tentative peace will be shaken if she says it.

_You! How could you? He's your father!_

There are bits and pieces of his childhood she has coaxed from him, incomplete fragments he has reluctantly given up, but the one she can not touch is the one she was there to witness, the one which manifests itself in their shared dreams. It is the things she knows now that she did not then-the smell of him, the heat of his body pressed along her back, the thud of his heartbeat against her shoulderblade- that push the nightmare away. He knows the moment that the nightmare releases it's sticky hold on her-she goes slack underneath him, her breathing returning to normal. Her heartbeat under where his arm lays across her chest starts to slow. The frantic swell of her energy washes out like the tide, and there's an emptiness in it's space.

 

“You're heavy,” She huffs quietly, after a moment.

 

He rolls them back to their sides, his grip loosening as she drops the saber. He huffs behind her and she feels him tense.

 

“Look.” He says, tightly.

 

The quickest way for her to recover after these nightmares is to read his mind, but neither of them like it. He resents both the intrusion and the need for it, and she dislikes being in his head. It had saved her on Starkiller, but the anger and darkness that bombards her can be physically painful for her to process, and he is always angry after this particular memory. She turns in his arms so she is on her back and can see his face, and though she can see the irritation, she can also see it wasn't an empty invitation. She reaches up and slides her fingers through his hair, scratching slowly along his scalp. He relaxes sightly, and she focuses. She's careful, and quick. She's in for only a few moments, long enough to understand there is still no hostility there toward her. Before she can withdraw completely, he squeezes her hip and see sees an image of him curled around her, like he is now, both of them naked, his hips churning against her. _Oh._

 

“ _Oh.”_ She says, and even in the dim light he can see the blush steal over her cheeks.

There is an answering heat that erupts in her belly, and his gaze becomes predatory. The dress she fell asleep in is rucked up around her thighs, and he reaches down and grabs a handful of material and slides it up, his breath catching when he sees she is wearing nothing beneath it. A little more wiggling and a few curses and the fabric is sliding over her head and tossed on the floor. She can feel him stirring against her thigh. He kisses her neck, her shoulder, and her arm when she reaches to bury her fingers in the wavy hair at the nape of his neck. He slides his palm over her ribs, trailing the tips of his fingers against the sensitive curve of her breasts. The last gossimer cobwebs of the dream dissipate as her nipples stiffen with the slightly ticklish sensation. He pointedly ignores the straining flesh and continues to circle her breasts with maddenengly soft, slow strokes of his fingertips, straying once or twice to cup her chin and turn her lips to his for kisses that are anything but the usual heated invasion she is used to.

He is unusually easy with her-he is a man accustomed to giving commands and being obeyed and she is used to firmer hands placing her where he wants her and holding her there, but here he is almost _careful_ in his determination to steer her away from the precarious agitation that dream usually leaves her drowning in. While he has always been a dedicated and considerate lover, he has never been this soft and sweet, and she has the sudden aching realization that this is the part of him that was Ben. She doesn't know what to do with the caving feeling in her chest at that thought, so she fists her fingers in his dark waves, grinds her ass against him and nearly begs him to take her.

“I need you....” She reaches behind her and closes her slender fingers around the warm, smooth skin of his hard shaft.

It doesn't take much, a minute shift of his hips and a slow push and he is seated within her. He starts slowly, just a pulse of his hips, letting her adjust to the stretch and fill of him while his hands roam her body. She's no longer the reed-thin girl he'd picked up on Takodana whose ribs he'd been able to feel through his gloves when he'd carried her to the shuttle. A steady supply of food other than packaged rations had filled her out and her training had scuplted lean muscles and he likes to run the palms of his hands over every inch of her as if memorizing every curve and sinew.

His movements grow in speed and power, spurred on by the little noises she's making into the crook of his neck and he grabs her leg and drapes it back behind his, opening her to his roaming fingers. He feels where they are joined and slides his fingertips back to the petal-soft folds at the crux of her thighs and settles them there in a familiar circular motion that has her body going taught. The sounds she was making catch in her throat, only soft pants escaping.

Her only giveaway is the way her body curls in on itself, her fingers digging into his arm, her body fluttering violently around where he is sheathed in her. Her breath catches, stutters, and is released in a long sigh. Sometimes, she yells, swears, thrashes, and other times she is like this, and it makes no difference to him. The memories are all equally gratifying to him when he recalls them later, in the solitary silence of his quarters.

Her body clings to him with each pull out, so he grips her waist to steady her as his hips crash against her a few more times. He grunts, his teeth closing on her shoulder as the tension coiling around his spine bursts. When he rolls away from her, she protests the loss of contact. Once he catches his breath, he grabs his pants and heads for the 'fresher. Rey stretches like a big cat while she listens to the water running. He comes out with pants on, chest and feet bare as he pads over to her side of the bed. He yanks the sheet free and wraps it around her before picking her up and carrying her to the table. He sits, settling her on his lap, and he pours another glass of wine from the skin and they sit in comfortable silence as they pick through the leftovers. In between bites of a well-seasoned tender meat of some sort, he kisses the reddened mark left by his teeth. When she's full, Rey leans back against his shoulder and licks sauce from her fingers.

 

“Kylo, you wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that we're the only ones here, would you?”

 

He pops a chunk of vegetable in his mouth and smiles wolfishly.

 

“I would have everything to do with it.”

 

Her eyes widen and she pulls away to look at him.

 

“You didn't--” Hurt anyone. Kill anyone, she wants to say, but he cuts her off.

 

“No, Rey. I made a _suggestion_ to the owner.”

 

“That is a completely inappropriate use of the Force, you know.” She chides, but there's no real bite to it. “Thank you.” She says, a little quieter. She pushes some errant locks of hair out of his eyes and gives him a long kiss before draining what's left of the wine in the glass. She refills it and settles back against him, bringing her knees up over the side of the chair. Rey can see the faintest blush of dawn on the horizon through the viewport and she knows that soon they'll have to leave. They spend the next hour watching the sun rise over the water and another chain of islands. She is the first to move, clutching the sheet to her chest as she stands, trailing her fingers up his arm to his shoulder as she walks behind, and he catches her hand and places a kiss to the inside of her wrist before letting her go. He listens to her moving about the room, gathering her things and getting dressed before he gets up and finishes dressing. Rey is the first to leave this time, but when she hits the door, she stops and turns back to him.

 

“Monster.” She says with a nod. It's is the only goodbye she ever gives him.

 

He looks up from pulling his boot on and gives her an answering nod, his dark eyes settling on hers. She thinks she sees the twitch of his lip into a smirk before he answers, “Scavenger.”  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to make this whole comfort thing a series. Different ratings apply. Comments always appreciated :)


End file.
